


All My Days

by GoodyearTheShippyCat



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bars and Pubs, Crying, Declarations Of Love, Developing Relationship, Domestic Praxmos, Drinking, Engagement, Family, Gaelic Language, Hugs, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mildly Dubious Consent, Plans For The Future, Prequel, Romantic Fluff, Scotland, Scottish Gaelic (a little bit), sad sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-29 01:57:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18768838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodyearTheShippyCat/pseuds/GoodyearTheShippyCat
Summary: A prequel piece toThe Thistle and The Rose. Snapshots of the developing relationship between Marcus (Praxis) and Alec (Deimos) a few years before the main story.





	All My Days

**Author's Note:**

  * For [violetnyte](https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetnyte/gifts).



> Happy birthday to violetnyte! Here’s that Scottish AU Praxmos-focused prequel story I’ve been promising for ages. It doesn’t require being caught up on current chapters of the main fic, as it’s set entirely in the past. Translations for the Gaelic dialogue used are provided in the end notes.
> 
> Dubcon tag is for brief mention of sad, drunk Deimos trying to bury his feels with sex. So pretty much par for the course with Starfighter fic. 
> 
> Name reference:  
> Marcus = Praxis  
> Alec = Deimos  
> Sachairi = Cain (pronounced SEY-KehR-Riy)  
> Anna = Cain's sister  
> Aidan = Ethos

The sun was getting low in the sky, casting long shadows all around the inn. Everything seemed to glow in the warm, end of summer evening. Marcus was pleased with the amount of work they’d gotten done that day. The second coat of wood stain was seeping into every nook and cranny of the stairs leading up to the entrance of the bed and breakfast. With just one last section of the bannister to do, him and Alec would have no trouble finishing before dark.

He set his paintbrush down in the tray and looked over at his husband, who was completely focused on the task at hand. His slender arm deftly wove around the old, carved support struts under the rail before dipping the wide brush back in a canister of stain, continuing to trace the contours of wood far older than either of them. They’d been working together in companionable silence since supper, and all that afternoon, too.

Marcus couldn’t help relishing the quiet moment, watching Alec and wanting nothing more than to freeze this perfect instant of time. The awareness that he was exactly where he wanted to be, seemingly against all odds, hit him like a punch to the gut. In a good way, though; a way that gave him butterflies in his stomach all over again. They’d made it—made things work, made the place their own, made a life together.

It seemed almost unbelievable, considering how things could have gone.

 

***

 

The bell over the door rang, announcing the first customer to brave the hard rain that evening. Marcus looked up to greet them, but the friendly hello died in his throat. Sachairi stormed through the entrance to the pub, practically bristling. He was soaking wet, shaking droplets out of his hair with barely reined-in fury as he strode over to plop himself onto one of the bar stools.

In his wake, Alec followed, expression blank and eyes downcast.

“Gie’ mysel’ a fuckin’ whisky,” Sachairi demanded, “An’ dinnae be stingy ‘bout pourin’!”

Marcus was so perturbed by the dour mood in the room that he didn’t even bother to call the other man on his rudeness. He just grabbed the closest bottle, placed three glasses on the bar, and started to pour two generous fingers into each. He slid one over to Sachairi, who drained half of it in one go. He slid the next to Alec, who had taken the stool on his friend’s far side. The side closer to the wall than to the taps where Marcus was standing out of habit. He didn’t even get a nod or wave of thanks like usual. The smaller man just wrapped his hands around it, staring into the drink without bothering to have any yet.

Marcus lifted the third to his own mouth, taking a small sip and a deep breath before speaking.

“What happened?”

“Factory’s closin’ up next month,” spat Sachairi before taking another gulp of his drink, “Fuckin’ wankstains think tae fire us. Joke’s on ‘em, though. Mysel’ am quittin’!”

“Ye too, Alec?” Marcus turned to his boyfriend. _God, it hasn’t even been all that long since we started calling each other that._

“Ye deaf or just a moron?” Sachairi interrupted before Alec had even acknowledged the question, “Mysel’ said it’s closin’. Everycunt workin’ there is gettin’ the boot.” He polished off the last of his drink and pushed it back towards Marcus.

“It’s all on the house t’night, lads,” he said, filling the glass once more. He rubbed at his forehead in frustration and took another sip of his own drink—attempting in vain to stop his mind running about a million miles an hour.

He noticed that Alec had finally downed some of the glass in front of him. But the other man remained withdrawn, even as Sachairi continued to rant in fits and starts. His silence was of an entirely different quality than usual, sorrowful almost. He wouldn’t meet Marcus’ eyes or respond to any of his questions; letting Sachairi answer instead, or just snort in derision if he didn’t deem it worth talking about.

Giving up on playing bartender, Marcus just set the bottle between the two men on the other side of the rail after refilling his own glass. He walked around the bar to sit next to Alec in the one seat remaining, right beside the wall. No reaction.

With more than a little trepidation, Marcus shifted his leg to lean it against the smaller man’s. Relief flooded through him when Alec didn’t try to pull away. He didn’t say anything, or look at Marcus just yet, but he left that point of contact between them, warm and comforting.

Maybe it was just Marcus’ wishful thinking, but it felt like Alec pressed back a little bit as he sighed quietly, continuing to stare down into his glass.

 

***

 

The bed felt colder than usual, the mattress stiffer. Though maybe it was just Alec. Marcus knew the furniture hadn’t changed since they’d last lain here together. Which meant the only explanation for the difference was the man in his arms.

It had been Alec’s final day of work. Marcus was just relieved his boyfriend had come back to the inn afterwards like he’d asked him to. He’d closed the pub for the evening, anticipating any possible scenario. Alec hadn’t said anything, or even really given any of his usual body language cues. The mood was heavy; the silence Marcus normally enjoyed when they were alone felt almost oppressive.

He wondered if he’d pushed too much, stepped across some unseen line.

 

Alec had been really closed off since the announcement of the factory closing, beyond his usual quiet demeanour. The exception was when he was stupid drunk, which he had been far more often lately. At least once a week, he’d come by around last call, dragging Marcus to the bedroom as soon as any straggling customers finally left. Demanding to get fucked hard and rough, but not seeming to enjoy it the way he had before. It made Marcus worry, how shattered Alec seemed in those moments, yet how he walled himself off. Distant and unreachable.

This time had felt the same at first, except Alec wasn’t drunk. He was just falling into the same pattern—begging Marcus to go harder, to not hold back, when they’d only just started.

_Not this again_ , Marcus had thought. He missed all the different ways they’d had sex before. Hated this new, disconnected state of affairs.

He hadn’t given in to the other man’s demands. He’d held Alec tight, but kept his motions as gentle and tender as he possibly could. Trying to show how he felt instead of saying it. Talking hadn’t gotten him anywhere recently. Every time he’d asked about whether Alec planned to look for work nearby, or elsewhere, his boyfriend had just shrugged. Or would shake his head as if to say he didn’t know, or didn’t want to get into it.

He’d found himself, as he often did of late, admiring Alec’s body like each time might be the last he would get to see him. Noticing all the little things about it—the tiny, unique things he loved—and trying to commit them to memory.

He’d ignored the frustrated noises and signals that Alec was giving him; asking for more, faster, harder, rougher. Instead, he’d kissed down the little bumps of Alec’s spine where they protruded just slightly at the back of his neck. That was what had tipped the delicate balance they’d been held in.

The brittle façade Alec had been keeping up seemed to splinter in that moment, with a shuddering breath and a soft, sad noise. Marcus had paused, running a hand up his lover’s arm, worried.

“ _Noooooo,_ ” came the raspy whine of a response, Alec begging him to keep going.

Asking if he was all right had just been met by nods, even as Marcus could see tears on his cheeks. He could feel answering ones brimming at the corners of his own eyes. The desire to scream or sob tamped tightly down inside his chest. Repeated attempts to stop or slow down were rebuffed immediately, ratcheting up the desperation and helplessness he felt each time.

It hadn’t taken long for either of them to finish, Marcus feeling a little sick to his stomach.

When they’d separated, Alec buried his face into Marcus’ chest; shoulders shaking, breathing halting. As he felt his heartbeat returning to normal, Alec began to tense in his embrace. Marcus just held him close. He was glad to at least be holding him, uncertain how much longer he’d get the chance to.

 

***

 

The sound of sand paper scratching back and forth, the feel of his arm muscles tiring with repeated efforts, the sight of old wood slowly exposed for the first time in decades—all of it was satisfying.

Marcus had thrown himself into renovations to one of the bedrooms, an ineffective effort to take his mind off of everything. He was still dwelling on what seemed inevitable. It was loud enough, however, that he didn’t hear anything behind him. Didn’t realise anyone was there until he saw movement in the peripheral vision of his left eye.

He started, head snapping around to look properly at the silent intruder. It was Alec, of course, footprints visible on the floor behind him, marking his path through the dust Marcus had generated sanding paint off the baseboard trim. He pointed down at the stack of unused sandpaper, cocking his head to one side.

“Ye want ta help?” asked Marcus, getting a nod in response. “Okay, thanks. Maybe start on smoothing out the plaster repairs on the walls? Oh, and grab a dust mask. There should be another in tha’ box.”

The time was spent in silence, save for the sound of sandpaper. But not tense silence like usual the past few weeks; comfortable, content silence. An air of calm that left him feeling at peace.

They worked well together, getting everything finished much more quickly than Marcus had expected. He’d been budgeting at least another morning spent on prep before painting the walls and restoring the wood could begin.  

Alec was smiling as he looked around at the finished job, the mask now hanging around his neck. Marcus couldn’t help but stare at him, loving the way he looked in the late afternoon sunlight, newly emerged from behind the clouds. It streamed into the room through the large window, highlighting motes of dust gently floating on invisible currents, more numerous than usual. More were kicked into the air when Alec moved his head, almost like an aura surrounding him. But powdery plaster still coated his hair, making it look kind of ashy, or a bit salt and pepper-like.

It was almost like a vision of Alec a few decades down the road.

Marcus realised with sudden, overwhelming force that he wanted _that_ more than anything—to be able to see Alec every day for the rest of his years. To grow old together, to still be working as a team together. The emotions swirling through him were disorienting, but also catalyzing. He felt giddy, anxious, and even a little bit crazy as he looked down at the man beside him. The man he loved.

“Alec… if I asked ye, would ye stay here with me?” he said, biting back his uncertainty. Alec’s head swiveled up to meet his gaze, questioning. “Would ye like ta stay here and run the B&B with me once we’ve got it ready for reopening?”

“…wha?” said Alec, looking taken aback.

“I love ye, Alec. I don’t want ya t’ leave.”

Alec was shaking his head, looking confused and unsure.

Marcus wasn’t quite sure how to take that, but he persisted. Getting down on one knee on the dusty floor, he took Alec’s hand in both of his, looking up into pale blue-grey eyes.

“Alec, what I’m trying ta ask is… will ye marry me?”

Nothing but shock seemed to register on Alec’s face for a long moment. Marcus got worried, and started to ramble.

“I’m sorry I haven’t got a ring yet. I just, I didn’t really plan this, but I had to. I just realised I _had_ to do this, right now. But, umm, maybe we can pick out rings together?” he blurted, half hopeful, half stomach-churning anxiety.

“Tha mo ghion ort,” said Alec, eyes shining.

Marcus could kick himself for not knowing more Gaelic. He’d been taking some informal lessons from Aidan, but still wasn’t anywhere near fluent, or familiar with this turn of phrase. Yet, something about the way it sounded reminded him enough of other things Alec had said in the past, during quiet moments together. It was encouraging.

“Is… is that a yes?”

Alec nodded, the movement letting loose a few tears which made tracks in the dust on his cheeks.

“Yes,” he said in that tiny, scratchy little voice Marcus loved more than any other sound on earth, getting down on his knees to join Marcus on the floor.

He practically tackled his boyfriend— _no, fiancé_ —with a hug so fierce they fell in a giggling heap onto the dust-covered hardwood. They kissed with abandon, not caring about the mess, bodies intertwining on the floor of _their_ inn.

 

_All that’s left is to tell people,_ thought Marcus. He was still brimming with excitement even after Alec had gone home the next day. _Home to start packing his things to move in!_

Alec had given him the go-ahead—they weren’t going to keep it secret. Marcus assumed his fiancé would tell Sachairi, and by association, Anna. She was bound to come in for her shift that night screaming and cheering and carrying on. Then the whole village would know in no time at all…

Of course the first person he was going to tell about it was Aidan. He couldn’t imagine wanting to share the news more with anyone other than his oldest, closest friend. He’d have to wait to see his family in person, anyway. Him and Alec needed to plan a trip up to Aberdeen, and soon. Preferably that weekend, before his mother heard it through the grapevine. But Aidan he could see right away, to share the bubbling feeling of happiness that seemed fit to burst free of his chest.

He dug out his phone and started composing a text, asking Aidan if he could swing by the pub sometime that afternoon. If he was too busy, Marcus would just have to put the ‘Back in an Hour’ sign on the door and drive out to meet him, instead.

Alongside the feeling of joy came a tiny grain of concern. With Aidan and Sachairi as their best men, they were almost guaranteed to wind up in some ridiculous situation prior to the wedding day… He shuddered to think about what kind of stag party those two would plan. Him and Alec would be lucky if they didn’t end up tied to the lampposts in the village square, naked save for a thick coating of shoe polish, treacle, dirt, feathers, tattie peelings, and probably some bits of wool and straw, too.

 

***

 

The drive to Aberdeen should have been a chance to breathe. Two hours of peace and quiet; just the two of them and the beautiful scenery as they headed further North and East. But a nervous energy hung in the air between them.

Alec had met his family before, of course. Had even had the chance to meet his father before he’d passed. But he hadn’t seen any of them since Marcus’ mother finally decided to move in order to be closer to her daughters. Marcus had gone for a few short visits, but mostly talked to them over the phone or online.

He’d barely finished knocking when the door to his mother’s flat swung open, a wide smile on her face accompanied by a chorus of greetings from the women in the main room.

“Ah, Marcus! How Ah’ve missed ye!”

“Marcus! Alec!”

“Good ta see ye, brother. And ye as well, Alec.”

After escaping his mother’s smothering hug, Marcus embraced his older sister Mary, careful not to squish his young niece who was cradled in her arms. She babbled up at him excitedly, though not in any understandable words yet.

“My, ye’ve grown so big since last I saw ye!”

“Aye, she’s e’en started walkin’ a wee bit.”

“And look at this laddie!” he said to his nephew, who had toddled over to hand him a wooden block, “Oh, thank ye, what a lovely present.”

Marcus looked over to where his younger sister Fiona remained on the sofa, glued to her laptop. Alec was making a beeline in that direction—presumably having just escaped his own enthusiastic hug from Marcus’ mother.

“Ciamar a tha thu, Alec?” asked Fiona, glancing up from the screen for a moment.

“Tha mi glè mhath,” he replied, looking slightly more at ease.

“Ah! How’s yer Gaelic class going, Fiona?” Marcus asked, wandering over.

“Chan eil dona,” she replied, “But the prof is sooooo boring! Tell Aidan he dinnae miss out on anythin’.”

“How come Ah’ve the pleasure o’ my only son comin’ ta visit?” asked his mother, making her way back to the middle of the room, “An’ with Alec in tow, too! Good ta see ye again. Whit like are ye, lads?”

_The moment of truth, I guess_ , thought Marcus, taking a breath and steeling himself. He looked to Alec before speaking, and got a little smile and a nod.

“Uh, well, we’ve got good news,” Marcus began, the focus of everyone in the room on him now, “And we wanted ta share it in person.”

“Well, what is it? Dinnae leave us in the dark!” asked his mother.

“Alec and I are engaged.” Everyone was talking over each other in excited tones the second he finished.

“Oh, I cannae believe mah boy is gettin’ married!” his mother looked a little shocked, though maybe it was just excitement.

“Congrats, little brother, that’s wonderful news,” said Mary, smile warm and voice sincerely pleased, “And welcome to the family, Alec! We’re glad ta have ye.”

Alec nodded his appreciation from where he was being hugged by Fiona, laptop forgotten.

“Nach buidhe dhut!” she said, looking from Alec to Marcus as she let go.

“Tapadh leibh,” replied Alec, smiling wider than usual.

The evening came with more celebrating, food and drink galore. Mary’s husband brought a bottle of good whisky back with him upon returning from the shops. Marcus felt like he must have told the story of how he asked Alec—minus the steamier details after the fact—at least five times by the end of the night. And put off questions about exactly when and where and how they planned to tie the knot at least twice as many times as that.

It was obvious to him that his mother, although acting happy enough, was surprised and maybe not entirely convinced yet. He’d expected that, given how new their relationship still was, but hoped Alec hadn’t picked up on her uncertainty. Because he had none. He knew he’d made the right choice.

 

***

 

Marcus had known too much time with his family would be hard on Alec, so he’d been sure to plan a day trip further up the coast. He’d been to Cruden Bay before, with a bunch of his mates in uni, but didn’t recall it being quite so gorgeous. Windswept fields ending in lichen-covered rockfaces which looked out over the expanse of the North Sea. It really was a sight to behold.

It was overcast, but they couldn’t have asked for nicer weather otherwise. Marcus watched Alec closely as they meandered through the fields, avoiding the young thistles as they made their way over to the ruins of Slains Castle. The other man hadn’t seemed too stressed out by the previous night, but it was hard to tell sometimes given how quiet he was regardless of his mood. Marcus wasn’t certain whether something was actually off, or if he was just projecting his worries.

Alec kept stopping to stare at various Spring flowers growing wild all around them, touching their petals and silently appraising them. There was lots of sea thrift just starting to open, cheery little heads of clover, and a few which Marcus didn’t know the names of. An idea struck him, along with a resurgence of the giddy excitement he’d been riding high on since that afternoon in the inn, surrounded by sandpaper and paint dust.

“Ye know, Alec, I’ve been thinkin’… ye could take over the garden back home, if ya like,” he said, throwing the suggestion out casually, unsure how it would be taken.

Alec looked up at him, big eyes peering out from beneath dark fringe, completely irresistible. “Really?”

“’Course. Nobody’s done much with it in recent years,” Marcus replied, “I don’t really have a green thumb or creative eye fer that sort o’ thing.”

Alec smiled up at him; a shy, secretive little smile that made his heart catch in his throat. He bent to kiss the shorter man, soft and sweet.

He felt Alec’s hand find his as they continued walking. Felt the hesitations when they passed a new patch of flowers and slowed his pace so they could both appreciate the blooms. Scattered patches of pink, yellow, and white peppered the grass, which was surprisingly green already for this point in the year.

“Ye could grow any o’ these flowers there, if ya like,” said Marcus, “Or whatever else ye want. Veggies, berry bushes, whatever pleases ye.”

It was a few moments before he got a response, so quiet it was almost lost to the sea breeze as they wandered the ruins.

“Ye mean it?”

“Pure dead serious,” said Marcus, tone leaving no room for misinterpretation, “I want the inn ta be yers as much as mine.”

His fiancé wrapped both arms around his waist, pulling him into a tight hug under an old, ornamented stone arch. Looking out to sea, Marcus hugged him back.

“We’ll have ta be figurin’ out a new name fer the place. Do a grand re-opening once the renos are finished,” he suggested.

Alec looked up at him, and Marcus could almost see the ideas sparking in those clever, thoughtful eyes.

“Be certain ta let me know if ye come up with any, right?”

 

END

**Author's Note:**

> Scottish Gaelic translations:  
> Tha mo ghion ort = I love you with all my heart  
> Ciamar a tha thu = How are you?   
> Tha mi glè mhath = I am very well  
> Chan eil dona = Not bad  
> Nach buidhe dhut = congratulations, of a sort (literally: “aren’t you lucky”)   
> Tapadh leibh = Thank you


End file.
